


5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did

by sinecure



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5 Things, AU, Control Issues, F/M, Sex, Trapped, cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinecure/pseuds/sinecure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cell Damage

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Adult, humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who.  
> **Author's Notes:** Thanks as always, goes to momdaegmorgan for the awesome beta job and for keeping me on the straight and narrow. *whispers* Can I have DT back now, please?

"They're cavemen," Rose stated, arms crossed over her chest. One of the hunched over creatures in the outer cave area gave a grunt, followed by a shout.

"Technically," the Doctor began, hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet, "they're Neander--"

"Cavemen," Rose insisted, shifting on the rock beneath her.

He blinked at her interruption then opened his mouth to correct her again, but she didn't give him the chance.

She pointed her finger at his chest and poked him. "Cave. Men."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders back, no doubt to relieve the pain from the rock one of the cavemen had hit him with when he tried to take Rose from their cautious, curious hands. "Yeah, all right. Cavemen, Rose. They're cavemen."

He sounded so weary that she felt sorry for him. Really, it wasn't his fault. Okay, so he'd rolled the dial on the time-thingie and the place-whatchamacallit which blindly brought them here. To prehistoric whatever-planet-this-was, where life was only beginning to come out of its metaphorical caves. At least, that's what she thought. He hadn't really had time to do his usual lengthy pontificating what with all the Neanderthals--yes, she knew that's what they were--surrounding them as soon as they left the TARDIS.

And the grabbing and the touching. She shuddered in remembrance. Dirty, grabby hands petting her hair, poking her arms, stroking her clothing.

Why did they never marvel at the Doctor? she wondered.

Loud grunts and what passed for conversation came from the outer area of the cave, startling her out of her reverie. Why wasn't the TARDIS translating?

She'd been on prehistoric Earth with the other Doctor, and the translator circuit had worked on them, which was a really weird thing to see and hear. But not here. Odd, that.

The Doctor paced away from her, toward the entrance that led to the larger cave, which housed the cave opening as well as twenty or more cavemen and women. She knew he was testing their escape. Again.

But it was still blocked off.

Rose shivered. It was rather cold and dark and dirty in here.

He returned to her and sat down, leaning back against the rock wall as he settled one of the bear-like furs over her shoulders. "Cavemen," he mused, shaking his head.

She snorted and scooted next to him. She had to admit the furs beneath her bum made the hard rock feel soft enough, and the one he'd placed on her shoulders was cushy and warm. Still, it was the principle of the thing. "Trapped in a caveman cell," she chuckled, bumping his shoulder with her own. Her lips twitched at his sour look. "With," and here she peered over at the caveman watching them at the entrance, waving her fingers with a frozen grin, "Bobo over there giving one, or maybe both of us, the eye. A cell, I might add, complete with a rock bed and fur blankets. This is... this is so you, Doctor."

He raised his legs and rested his arms on his knees, tossing Bobo an absent glance. "I think I'm rather offended."

"Bobo not your type?" she asked innocently, purposely mistaking his meaning.

The Doctor sniffed in annoyance.

Rose chuckled, then laughed, smoothing her hand over the fur beneath her. It was startlingly soft. And she was a bit tired. A yawn escaped her. She really didn't want to spend the night here, but she could get more comfortable while they waited. She turned around and spread out on the fur-covered flat rock. Okay, not as comfortable as sitting on it. "How long are we gonna be here?" she asked, frowning as she tried to scrunch the furs into a passable pillow.

 

The Doctor sighed and shifted closer, settling his legs out in front of him. "I think we'll be fine once the rain lets up and they go outside again. Probably morning. Maybe a little longer. They don't actually live in caves, you know." He took the fur from her hands and folded it up, setting it on his lap.

When she raised an eyebrow at him, he patted the fur and leaned his head back against the wall, watching her, waiting.

Seeing if she'd actually put her head in his lap?

She ducked her head with a silent scoff. Of course she would. That he even had to question her, even silently, showed how much he'd been paying attention.

Not at all.

She scooted over and settled into his lap, sighing at the feel of his thigh beneath her neck. He smelt good too. Like the Doctor; an indescribable smell that surrounded him and made her a little weak every time she got near him. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and shifted a bit, hoping he wouldn't notice.

She cleared her throat, remembering he'd said something back there. Something about caves. Right. "I know they don't live in... well, wait, they could do. We're not on Earth."

She felt him shift, lean down toward her. "They don't." His voice was nearer. Why? When his hand touched her hair, softly stroking the strands from root to tip, she went still.

This... oh, this was something she'd wanted for a long time. Her, the Doctor, touching in a way that wasn't simple hand-holding and hugging. There were plenty of other H-related words they could explore, like-- she cast about for something, but all she could come up with was 'humping'. Snickering to herself, she turned her face into the furs.

No matter how much she wished for more from the Doctor, she was pretty sure he didn't hump. This time she snorted with laughter, her whole body shaking.

"Wanna share with the class?" he murmured, hand still running through her hair. His fingers combed through the strands, occasionally touching her scalp, setting her skin to tingling. The back of his fingers trailed a little along her cheek on his latest upward stroke, stilling for a brief second before continuing on their journey.

"Nope," she answered, covering her shiver at his touch by pulling the fur higher. His hand met hers, helping her pull the heavy pelt up to her shoulders. "Just thinking. We've been in a lot of jails and cells, Doctor, but I think you're the only person who could manage to get thrown into a caveman jail."

"Oi!" he protested, his own chuckles ruining the indignation. "I'm not--"

He stopped, as noises from the other cave area grew louder.

She heard them as well, and wondered if there was a fight going on. She imagined big rocks and bashed-in brains and rolled onto her back to look up at the Doctor. "What's going on?"

He glanced at her once then looked away. His eyes settled on the large gray boulder by the door, the dirt on the floor, the rock ceiling, all as the sounds grew louder, more vociferous.

He was really starting to worry her now. She tried to sit up, but he held her where she was. "Doctor, what--"

He shook his head. "Nothin' to worry about. It's just noise. Ignore it."

Frowning, she laid her head back down and felt him shift under her, trying to get comfortable. His hand returned to her hair, threading through, and staying like that, unmoving.

More shouts and grunting came from the other room. Poor Bobo looked like he wanted to go join in the fight. He stood up, moved a few feet toward the cave and then stopped, settled down. Turned around. Faced Rose and the Doctor. Moved back. Turned away. Shifted toward their small cave, then moved toward the larger one again.

He reminded Rose of a dog told to stay while other puppies got to play in the park.

She giggled, turning her face away from the poor man, grabbing handfuls of the Doctor's white shirt. He stiffened under her fingers, his hand tightening in her hair. She was about to ask him what was wrong when she heard strange noises coming from Bobo. When she turned to look, she realized it wasn't, in fact, Bobo who was making the noises, it was the woman who'd just joined him.

On all fours, facing the large cave, furs hiked up out of the way of her bum. And Bobo--

Rose gaped for a second, then turned back to face the Doctor's stomach again, unable to contain her laughter any longer. "Caveman orgy!" she choked out. "You take me to all the best places, Doctor!"


	2. Alien Love Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did (2/6)  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. _(insert witty reason why, here)_  
> **Author's Notes:** Thanks to momdaegmorgan for beta-ing and keeping me working on this and my other stories when I wanted to give up. Send DT back now?! Please? *puppy dog eyes*

"Doctor," Rose whined, sliding her hands under her thighs. The wood beneath her knuckles hurt a little, but it didn't help to take her mind off her problem.

She really wished she hadn't had that third glass of P'teryn wine.

The crowd around them paid her no mind. All their focus was on the man speaking at the head of the group. Mutters of affirmation and rustling rose up around them every once in a while, but Rose couldn't concentrate on anything but her own body.

She shifted restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position on the pew. "How much longer?" Her perfectly reasonable question was made a little less so when followed by a low moan.

The Doctor looked down at her, his brow furrowed. He raised a hand--to comfort her?--but settled his palm lightly on his thigh instead. "An hour," he told her regretfully.

She moaned again. Embarrassment and shame were warring inside her even as she shifted more fitfully. "I don't think I can make it that long." Crossing one leg over the other helped briefly. She squeezed her legs tight, groaning at the pressure.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured, leaning closer so as not to be overheard. His breath whispered across her cheek, making her shudder.

"That's not helping," she snapped, leaning toward him. Her arm brushed his, the sleeve of his suit coat feeling deliciously textured against her bare arm. "Oh, god, Doctor, please," she begged, not knowing exactly what she was asking of him. "Can't we just go?" she pleaded, biting her lip to keep from making more embarrassing noises.

He shook his head, eyes straight ahead as she scooted closer and rubbed herself against him. His voice was a little strained. "It's not just considered rude," he explained, "it's also an affront to the gods and goddesses."

Rose sighed explosively. "So?" Giving up all pretense of decorum, she climbed on top of him and straddled his lap, sighing at the feel of him beneath her, shuddering when she felt his erection.

When he made no move to touch her, she took his hands in hers and slid them under her shirt.

Good thing they were in the back pew. And it was night. Otherwise the P'teryn's might be a little upset at the sight.

Rose didn't care anymore. Her entire body was on fire and she needed to be touched. She needed friction. God, she needed the Doctor to shag her right now!

She bent over and nipped at his neck, whispering into his ear as he'd done to her. "Worst they can do is chuck us in jail, right? Nothin' new there." She grinned as his fingers clenched against her skin. " 'sides, we could use a little privacy, yeah?" She pulled back a little to look at him.

So what if they'd never done this before. Never touched like this, or kissed, or shagged, or... well, it wasn't like she hadn't wanted to. This was just a nice catalyst for where she thought they could've possibly been heading anyway. Sometime. Maybe. In the future. Perhaps.

The Doctor was still staring straight ahead, but she could see the tightness in his jaw, the bob of his Adam's apple. His hands reached her breasts, met her bra, slid back down to her waist and pressed her down on him.

Oh, he definitely wanted.

Whether he wanted her or just anyone at this point though, she didn't know and didn't care.

His eyes were nearly black in the moonlight as they lifted to her face, wide and dilated. Obviously aroused. "Death." His lips barely moved with the word before he drew her down and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and hungrily. Devouring her.

"What?" she managed breathlessly. When his hips began to raise and lower under hers, she found it very hard to pay attention to anything else but the heat and friction he was causing and curing in her.

"Death." He pulled away, still holding her down on him. So hard. "That's the penalty. We can't leave."

Rose groaned and dropped down on him bonelessly. "An hour?" she whimpered. Glancing around the dark church, she bit her lip. "Think they'd notice if we--"

The Doctor snorted and rested his forehead against hers. "I'd think so, seeing as we're the guests of honor."

She whimpered and ground herself against him. "Well, why did they give us that stupid aphrodisiac wine if they wanted us to stay and watch their stupid-- oh god, do that again." Her eyes opened to find him watching her intensely as he repeated the motion of his hips against her while his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts.

"They didn't--" he stopped to clear his throat when his voice came out thin and strained. "They didn't know it was an aphrodisiac for humans." His eyes closed briefly when she scraped her nails down the nape of his neck.

"And Time Lords," she added, smirking at the Doctor and his superior physiology now.

"And Time Lords," he agreed, halting the motion of her hips. "Stop." His breathing was labored, shuddering against her lips as he lifted his mouth to within a breath of her own. "We're about to become the focus of the ritual, might be best if we... Rose, stop it."

She bit her lip and held her hips still with all her willpower, resisting his efforts to move her back to her seat on the pew. "How long?"

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers once more. "Fifty minutes give or take."

She drew in a deep breath and climbed off of him, ignoring his gasp as she did so. The loss of his hard body against hers and his cool hands under her top made her clench her own hands into fists in order to prevent herself from jumping on him again, church-goers be damned.

He took her hand, forcing her fingers to loosen and twine with his. Not how he usually held her hand, but more than enough for this particular moment in time. He leaned toward her, his lips and breath tickling her flesh as he spoke. "The aphrodisiac will wear off in forty."


	3. Too Close For Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did (3/6)  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. _(insert witty reason why, here)_  
> **Author's Notes:** Thanks to momdaegmorgan, my partner in crime and fellow smut-writer, no matter how much she doth protest.

Rose looked back over her shoulder, seeing the swaying beam of light headed her way and gripped the edge of the pipe with both hands. She didn't want to go in there. Tight spaces weren't on her list of favorite places to be. She wasn't claustrophobic per se; she just wasn't overly fond of being in confined spaces.

Add the Doctor into that mix, and it was, quite possibly, a nightmare in the making. Or a fantasy.

"Rose!" That was the Doctor, hissing at her to hurry up.

She took a deep breath and crouched down, crawling into the drainage pipe.

Naturally, not only was there not enough room to stand or sit, but they were forced to lie down. The Doctor was already inside, on his stomach. When she shimmied over him, she accidentally elbowed his back and dug a hand into his thigh. He remained still while she crawled up the length of him.

She could hardly breathe. There wasn't enough room for them to lie side by side, unless she wanted to plaster herself against the side of the pipe, and even then she'd only end up rolling over on top of him.

If she wanted to do anything but crouch uncomfortably, she'd have to lie on top of him.

The dogs--or what passed for dogs on Jupor--bayed and howled, kicking up a fuss hundreds of yards away while the men holding them yelled and called to one another, their torches splitting the hazy night air.

"Nothing like a good ole fashioned lynching," Rose grumbled. She shifted a little, but felt no more comfortable for it.

The Doctor, watching the men patrolling the fields for them, glanced at her over his shoulder before resting his chin on his hands and looking forward once more. "Lie down. You keep moving around they're going to hear you."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't wanna crush you."

He scoffed loudly and caught her eye. "How weak do you think I am?"

"How heavy do you think I'm not?" she retorted.

"Please. You're light as a feather. I'm a lot stronger than I look. Time Lords--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She was not in the mood for another of his Time-Lords-are-superior-because speeches. Her bum was cold; the cement pipe wasn't exactly insulated, and it was chilly outside.

The Doctor sighed and rolled over, scooting about to get more comfortable. Taking up the whole bloody pipe too. His eyes were on her, and she could just make out a frown in the hazy yellow light of the moon.

"What?" Maybe if she slid to the right and turned toward the-- nope. Her neck was beginning to hurt from crouching so low.

"We hold hands all the time," the Doctor stated. When she only looked over at him in confusion, he continued. "Any excuse for a hug. Survived death? Hug! Saved a life? Hug! Ate a banana? Hug!"

Rose's face was crinkled in bemusement. Yes, they hugged a lot. She'd never deny it, but was now really the time to discuss it? When her arse was freezing, her fingernails scraped and broken from the cement walls, and her neck fighting the urge to just break because it might be more comfy? "And?"

"You're afraid to touch me."

Okay, he had her there. Could he really blame her though? After what they'd been through the past few weeks? "Am not," she answered.

"Are too," he tossed back, sounding just as childish as she did.

Okay, now was apparently the time to talk about things, just not why they were so demonstrative in their affections. Nope, he'd moved on to why she wasn't anymore. "Well," she began, leaning down to look out the pipe entrance. No one was nearby, but she kept her gaze trained that way anyway. "What do you expect? Just a week ago I was... I mean, we-- there was that..." She slumped back against the pipe wall and looked down at her hands. "I dry-humped you!"

She was positive she didn't imagine the snort of laughter coming from the Doctor. However, the sudden sounds of footsteps above the pipe and movement in the surrounding long grass made him snap his mouth shut and grab her, dragging her over his body in order to clamp a hand over her mouth.

She was completely on top of him now; exactly where she didn't want to be because it was exactly where she wanted to be. She wriggled a little to the right, trying to scoot off of him, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her in place.

"Hold still," he whispered into her ear, making her shudder at the feel of his warm breath tickling the hairs at her temple.

Footsteps crunched through the dead pieces of grass littering the ditch they were situated in. A dog began baying and another joined in, barking like mad.

All Rose could see were the Doctor's eyes shining in the moonlight, watching her, warning her against movement.

It was hard not to move when his hand was wrapped tightly around her, and had slipped under her short t-shirt. Goosebumps spread on her skin as his fingers moved ever so softly against her side.

She shivered at the sensation.

A heavy weight settled into her stomach, and her knees went a little weak. Good thing she was lying down already, that could've been embarrassing. One of her legs dropped to the side, and the other rested between his. She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes on the opening of the pipe. Torchlight pierced the night in shimmering beams of blue, heading away from their position.

Thank god. She'd be able to move soon.

She tried to lick her lips, but the Doctor's hand was still on her mouth. His whole body shuddered lightly when her tongue touched him and she jerked her eyes back to his face.

His dark eyes were watching her. Their gazes held for a few seconds before he licked own lips and leaned up and whispered once more, "Didn't exactly see me beating you off with a stick."

"Well, no," she agreed, "but it's not like you had a lot of choice."

He raised an eyebrow further into the shadowed expanse of his forehead as if to say, well there ya go. "Neither did you."

She opened her mouth to tell him that she'd never had a choice when it came to him. That she'd always wanted him. Big ears and manic grin or sideburns and manic grin. It didn't matter to her; she wanted him.

But she couldn't say all that, so instead she nodded and remained silent.

There were a couple of nearby shouts, and the Doctor tightened his grip on her waist, shifting lightly beneath her. She was half on him now, her left leg still between his. When he shifted, she grabbed handfuls of his coat, holding on.

He let go of her mouth completely, but held a finger to his lips.

The men with the dogs--the hunting party, sent to track down her and the Doctor--moved off to the treed in area. Distant shouts and barks broke through the occasional silences left in their wake. Torchlight weaved in and out of the trees, broken beams splitting the night.

Rose shivered again as silence fell, but the Doctor remained where he was.

She released his coat and pressed her palms to either side of his head to push herself up, but froze when his arm tightened on her waist again.

"What--" she began, not sure what she'd been about to ask. What are you doing? What took you so long to touch me like this? What time is it?

Didn't matter, because the arm that wasn't around her waist settled on her upper back and drew her down on top of him again. "You didn't see me stopping you," he whispered against her lips, so close that his warm breath mingled with hers, "because I didn't want to."

So close to his lips, so close to the taste that she wanted to sample again, Rose was reduced to saying, "Oh." But then the fog cleared for a second and she blinked at him. A smile threatened to curve up her lips. "So you enjoyed the dry-humping?"

 

He chuckled and threaded his hands through her hair. "Mmm." His mouth pressed lightly against hers. "I don't think I've ever been dry-humped better."

She laughed and settled her forehead against his. "I've been told I have skills."

His breath and lips ghosted over her skin, making her shiver. "Care to exhibit these skills?" The corner of his mouth curved upward, his eyes dancing at her in the dim moonlight. "For demonstration purposes only, of course."

"Of course," she agreed in mock seriousness. Her eyes dropped to his lips, wanting to touch, to taste, to feel them against her own. Lowering her head, she settled her mouth over his, feeling him sigh into her parted lips. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue and felt his tongue against her own. He took control of the kiss almost immediately, pressing between her lips and stroking the roof of her mouth.

His hand cradled the back of her head, holding her still as his tongue continued to move desperately against hers, his mouth closing on hers again and again. Heat swept through her, turning her blood to molasses and making her heart flutter against her chest. The fingers of her right hand fisted in his coat while her left hand moved to his head, threading through his hair.

A sigh escaped her as her fingers ran through the strands. She loved his hair. Loved the way he--

Suddenly, the Doctor pulled away, gasping for air. "Did you feel the earth move?"

Rose blinked at him. Already? she thought. Well, maybe sex for Time Lords was different. Maybe things moved a lot quicker for them. But, looking at him, she decided that wasn't the case; he still looked aroused and heated, not like a man who'd just been satisfied by an earth-shattering orgasm. She shook her head and opened her mouth to reply when she felt something. "I'm getting wet."

"Oh?" the Doctor muttered in surprise. "Already?" He grinned and rolled them over until he was on top. "And straight into the dirty talk."

Rose looked at him for a second without a clue as to what he was talking about, and then it hit her. She couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped. "No," she giggled, "I meant I was really getting wet." When he simply raised his eyebrows at her for clarification, she snickered and dropped her head back. "My leg is wet. Water's coming in from somewhere."

His eyes opened wide in understanding and then went even wider. "Oh." He scrambled off of her as best he could in the confined space. "Time to go!"

She sat up, bracing herself with her hands behind her, trying not to demand that he climb right back on top of her again. Trying not to miss the feel of him wrapped around and over her. "What? Why?"

The Doctor didn't get a chance to answer. The pipe shook and vibrated enough to knock bits of dried grass and tiny pebbles around. The dirt beneath her hands was moving side to side. Her eyes widened and she scrambled to her knees.

"Quickly," the Doctor urged, pressing his hand against her bum.

She'd just stuck her hand outside in the grass and mud when a mighty roar sounded throughout the pipe and a rush of water swept around them. Mud and dirt and dead plants and other debris swirled under and over them, the inches of water growing to a foot before they'd both gotten free. Rose scrambled back on her hands and knees and stared at the place they'd just been in. The pipe was nearly engulfed in water and it was pouring out the opening toward them.

She stood slowly, scraping her hands against her sodden jeans, trying to free her fingers of the mud and bits of gunk that stuck to her like glue. A breeze brushed against her, raising goose bumps on her bare skin. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the Doctor who was in worse shape than she was. His hair was dripping, the water droplets sliding down his face, onto his soaked clothes.

But it was the smell that was the worst. Holding the back of her hand against her mouth and nose, she moved back from the drainage pipe, coughing.

The Doctor grabbed her hand, looking decidedly put out, and marched her in the direction of the TARDIS.


	4. Gonna Die, Gotta Shag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did (4/6)  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who.  
> **Author's Notes:** Thanks to momdaegmorgan for beta-ing and keeping me working on this and my other stories when I wanted to give up.

Rose tightened her grip on the console, digging her nails into the surface as the Doctor hopped around doing his manic piloting thing. When he reached for the knobs in front of her, she stepped back quickly, grabbing the strut behind her for purchase. The TARDIS convulsed, jerking them about, but somehow the Doctor managed to keep his feet as he darted back and forth.

Rose lurched forward, her feet nearly leaving the ground as the TARDIS rocked to the left. The Doctor left the space she'd been in, and she took the opportunity to grab hold of the console again.

"What is it?" she yelled above the time rotor's wheezing pump. Apparently, something was up with the ship, though Rose couldn't tell just by looking at her. The Doctor insisted though, and with the way he was frantically moving from one side of the controls to the other, she knew it wasn't the good kind of wrong where they landed somewhere eons and kilometers off from their original destination and had a good laugh about it.

The Doctor didn't bother looking at her as he twisted two knobs in opposite directions then flicked a red switch. "Just gotta-- ah!" Sparks flew up from the console, showering him in orange and yellow embers. He jumped back, staring at the rotor as if the TARDIS had insulted him. "Well, what'd you do that for?" he snapped.

Maybe she _had_ insulted him.

Rose snickered and bit her lip to keep the laughter at bay. The Doctor turned to her and grinned before jumping back into action. He ran to her side of the console, leaned in next to her, and reached across to flip one button and point at another. "Press that when I say now."

Eyes on the white button, she nodded and hovered her hand over it, waiting.

He darted toward the dials and knobs on his other side, half climbing onto the console to reach them. More sparks flew and he yanked his hand away, sliding back to the floor. Bumping against her as the rotor continued its sedate movement, he wrapped an arm around her waist and settled his hand firmly against her hip.

She eyed him curiously, wondering if it was strictly necessary to touch her, or if he was just being cuddly. Since the night in the sewer tunnel, they'd stayed close and kissed a few times--up against the TARDIS doors with so much force and heat that she'd half-expected they'd melded into one creature during the course of the kiss.

But they'd yet to actually satisfy that need both had for the other. She knew he wanted her. After all, she'd felt him pressing against her numerous times. In the field by the rebel force's camp on Limutre as they hid from the government.

In her back, as he shoved her against the wall to protect her from the shrapnel from a bomb that'd interrupted their make out session in a museum.

It'd been a week, and she was beginning to wonder if he intended to drive her mental with foreplay.

She wanted him. Badly.

Now, then, here, there, anywhere, any when, so long as she got to have him.

Groaning, she leaned into the console and pressed against his side, wedging herself for stability and maximum Doctor-touching. The ship lurched to the right, knocking him into her. His hand was over a button as well. He leaned toward her and whispered, "Now."

They both slammed their hands over their respective buttons and the TARDIS suddenly went still.

Silence descended as they waited. One second, two seconds. The rotor remained still and the ship was no longer convulsing. He raised his brows at her, grinning and rocking back and forth on his feet, hands in his pockets. "What do you think about that?"

"You fixed her?" she asked, darting a look around the control room. Everything looked all right, the sparks were gone, no fires had started, so... "Yeah?"

His smile slipped a little, but didn't disappear completely. "Nope." Removing his hands from his pockets, he turned back to the controls with a deep breath and a headshake. "We were jutting along the edges of the vortex-- hence the bumpy ride." Lifting a hand her way, he waited until she took it and then drew her to his side. "Now we're not because we're in space. Regular old space. Boring space. No time traveling or anything. Just..." he twisted his lips a little, "space."

She rested her arm against his and stared at the controls he was working. "So, we're... not going to be traveling through time until you get her fixed?" That didn't bother her. Maybe it'd give them a break. They could use a break. Since the tunnel, he'd been landing them more frequently than was their norm, and darting them off into adventures more often.

Not that he'd been avoiding her. Oh, no, definitely not that. He just seemed to not want to take that extra step just yet, the step that would place them firmly in the 'had sex' column, and she wasn't sure why. Fear?

Glancing at his profile as he mumbled to himself and flipped a switch back and forth a few times, she dismissed that idea. The Doctor wasn't afraid of sex. He'd as much as told her he wanted her. Had, in fact, told her that very thing. Maybe he was just giving her time to adjust. Time to take everything in and breathe and not worry about the next step.

Yeah, she liked that idea. They needed time. Jumping into a relationship was never a good thing. Never mind that they'd had more than a year and all of time and space since first meeting, flirting, and, in her case, falling in love.

Realizing he hadn't answered her question and was still flipping the same switch, she called his name.

"Hmm?" Giving her a quick look, he released her hand and moved around her back, pulling the monitor to him before typing something on the keyboard.

"No time travel?" Pushing back from the console, she leaned down and rested her elbows on it, propping her chin in her hands.

"Ah. No," he agreed, frowning at the screen. He smacked it on the side. "Definitely no... huh."

"What?" Not that she'd understand, of course, since most of what he told her about the TARDIS went over her head, but she liked to ask. Liked to hear him explain things. It turned her on that he was so brilliant. She liked it especially when he got his-- ah. Out come the glasses.

She loved looking at him with his glasses on. The word geek popped into her head, and maybe seventeen-year-old Rose would've scoffed at the idea of being in love with a man who made geek chic, but twenty-year-old Rose didn't care.

"Seems..." he said slowly, dragging his eyes from the monitor to her as he stood up straight and slipped his hands back into his pockets. "Seems we're stuck."

She straightened as well, trying to get a look at the screen. "Where?" A sudden grin lifted her lips. "Anywhere I know?"

He shook his head and she caught sight of his eyes behind the reflection of his lenses. They were dark and... regretful? "When I say stuck, I mean the controls are stuck and I can't pilot the TARDIS. She's hurtling through open space and I can't stop her."

Rose was unconcerned. They'd been in plenty of these sorts of situations before. Gesturing to the controls, she frowned at him. "Well, un-stick them."

Removing his hands from his pockets, he stepped up to her, settling his palms on her shoulders. "I can't, Rose. There's no way to do that. The mechanism in the matrix adapter charge is--"

She waved her hands in annoyance, not wanting the techno babble anymore. "Can't you pilot manually or something?"

"Normally, yes, but I told you, the mechanism in the matr--"

Rolling her eyes heavily, she stared up at the ceiling. "Doctor!" He stopped and blinked at her. "Can't you just... fix it? It's not like we're going to run out of space before you can get it working again."

 

He sighed and turned from her, dropping his hands to his sides before tapping again at the computer. When he was through, he gestured her over. "The universe is huge. Space is vast, but the problem is that there are planets and moons and satellites and..." He tapped a key twice and took her arm, drawing her toward the monitor.

She stopped beside him and looked down at the screen. On the display, a bright orange and red circle appeared, fiery offshoots blasting out this way and that from the roiling, ever-moving disc. "Suns," she whispered, lifting her eyes to his, not wanting to see the angry red gaseous giant anymore.

"Yes. And we're headed directly for this one." His knuckle tapped the screen, distorting the image for a brief moment.

Rose's mind whirled. This wasn't the first time they'd been in danger, and it wasn't the first time they'd faced death. He always saved them somehow, someway. And this time wouldn't be any different, she was sure of it. But the worry still gnawed at her insides and the fear still began to creep through her gut. "What about the shields? Like, when we were on the Dalek ship. They'll protect us until you figure something out."

"No, I'm sorry, Rose, that's not possible." He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. "We have sixty-eight minutes until we're in the sun's gravity and it won't be long after that that the shields will fail--they weren't meant to withstand that much heat--and we'll burn." He kissed her forehead, his brown eyes filled with guilt. "I'm so sorry."

Her lower lip began to tremble as her mind worked at a thousand times its normal speed. She wanted to think of something that would get them out of this, think of something that would help him figure out how to get them out of this. Think of a way to tell him she loved him. To call her mum and say goodbye.

"I should call mum," she whispered, pulling back from him and digging for her mobile in her back jean pocket. She pulled it out and was about to dial when she froze, staring at the glowing display. What could she possibly say to her mum? Tell her that her only child will never be coming home again, that she was about to die by plunging into the center of a sun? "I can't think what to say."

She snapped the phone shut with shaking hands and slid it onto the console.

The Doctor raised her head to his, lifting her chin with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Rose." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. When her lip trembled more, he ran his thumb over it, staring into her eyes. Mouth lowering to hers, he cupped her face in his hands. His lips were soft and tender, apologetic. When he pulled back to look down into her eyes, she saw that his had darkened, and she knew that look. Oh, did she know that look.

She grabbed his arms, fingers digging into his suit, dragging him back to her. It was desperation, she knew that. Strong emotions often made her do and say things she'd never have done before. But sometimes it made her do the only thing she wanted to do. "I want you, Doctor. And if we're gonna die..."

His arms wrapped tight around her back and drew her closer, pressing his forehead to hers. His breath skimmed hers, danced among her lashes and then settled into her skin. "Making love to you is the last thing I want to do in my life, Rose Tyler."

She snorted in amusement at the unfortunate wording. "You know how to flatter."

Looking chagrined, he huffed out a breath and smiled. "Let me rephrase that: making love to you is the last thing I would like to accomplish in my long life." Sliding a hand against her cheek, he touched his lips to hers as she let her eyes drift closed. "Nearly the only thing I've thought about for months."

She moaned into his mouth and kissed him eagerly, pulling him closer as he tightened his grip around her. Their lips moved over one another's, nipping, biting, sucking and licking desperately. She pushed at him, shoving at his suit jacket to get it down his arms. He needed to let go of her to undress, but he didn't seem to want to do so. She grunted in frustration. If they only had an hour, then she wanted to make the best of it. Tearing her mouth from his, she took his face in her hands, feeling the scratchiness of stubble. Rubbing her cheek against his jaw, she gasped, "Undress."

He pulled free of her and shed his jacket to the floor, then reached for her again with quick, cool hands, but decided to tear at the buttons of his shirt first instead. She yanked the zip down on her hoodie, the teeth of the zip sounding overly loud amongst the silence of the TARDIS, silence interrupted only by their heavy, gasping breaths.

The Doctor's blue button-up shirt dropped to the floor grating, the plastic buttons plinking against the metal. His eyes were on her, never blinking, never straying as he stripped his t-shirt off at the same time as she removed hers.

Bare skin met cool air, and her nipples tightened, though she wasn't sure it was the air affecting them. His eyes were nearly black, his mouth open as he panted and dropped his fingers to the waistband of his trousers. She ran her eyes over his chest, taking in the smattering of hair and his well-developed chest. As thin as he was, she'd expected less, but knew, in the back of her mind, that he was ropey and strong. She'd felt that chest against hers too many times to count.

Her fingers worked at the buttons on her jeans as his worked on his button and zip.

Their gazes met and they drew together, her hands cupping his face, his sliding against the expanse of her bare back, catching on her bra strap, then slipping underneath. Wet urgent mouths violently took from one another. His tongue was forcing hers to dance at a pace that took her breath away. The sensation of his skin against hers made her shiver, but she reached back and unhooked her bra, shrugging forward to loosen the straps.

His hands caught the ends and he groaned into her mouth. Jerking away from her mouth, he stared down at her chest as he ripped the bra from her, throwing it onto the console.

He licked his lips, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed. Inhaling deeply, he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, placing open-mouthed kisses on her warm flesh. "That smell drives me insane," he mumbled, licking the dip between shoulder and neck. "It's everywhere in the TARDIS." Another lick, making her shudder as wet heat exploded between her thighs. Her intimate muscles clenched at his words. He was using that low, intense tone that made her want to throw him on the floor and have at him. "Everywhere except my room." Closing his eyes, he inhaled again and started to smile, but something shifted in his face.

Her grin was wide. "Let's remedy that."

He blinked a few times and leaned down to sniff her neck. "Cherries and... bananas?" he mused, frowning now.

Chuckling, she rolled her eyes. "Everything's bananas with you." Biting her lip at the joke, she waited for him to laugh or chuckle or snicker and roll his eyes or something, but all he did was stare past her. She had a bad feeling about this. Her body really, really wanted him right now, and it looked like he'd gone elsewhere in his mind.

Suddenly, he darted across to the other side of the console and bent down.

Blinking at him, feeling empty and bereft, standing in just her jeans and shoes, she stared at the spot he'd disappeared in.

There was a heavy grating sound, like metal being scraped against metal, then the Doctor popped up, and a panel of the TARDIS console went flying behind him to land crookedly against the captain's chair. He once again dove down, and Rose circled around to see what was going on.

As soon as she approached, he jerked up with a shouted, "Aha!"

Seeing her there, he grabbed her arms and held her still, not even seeming to notice her naked upper body. "Rose, there's a room; down the right corridor, second left, first right, two doors past the rubbish chute, around the corner and one more right. Inside, there are bottles of E'ren'on gin. Smells like bananas and cherries," he said with a grin, infectious in nature, and she found herself returning it.

He'd figured out a way to fix the TARDIS. There was no way she could be angry about that. Disappointed that, once again, they weren't going to have sex, yes, but... there was always later. Lots and lots of laters.

Stopping to grab her shirt from the floor, she slipped it over her head and then ran down the TARDIS hallways to the room he'd told her about. The door was marked with a dusty sign that proclaimed it the 'TARDIS Pub'. Huh. She turned the handle, and inside, found crates of bottles and kegs of wine and jars of things she didn't want to get too close to.

It looked like there were things floating inside. Possibly still alive.

Shuddering, she looked for a box marked E'ren'on. The crates were covered in inches of dust, so she had to wipe off the tops and sides. Ten crates later, hands covered in dust, sweat beading on her body, she found what she was looking for. Inside were six large bottles of what looked like Ribena.

He hadn't said how much he needed, so she grabbed four of them and headed back to the console room, bottles clinking the entire way.

When she clinked her way into the console room, the Doctor popped his head up again, grinning at her. "Brilliant! Thank you. This," he said, taking one of the bottles from her as if it were a precious artifact from the rarest of planets, "will clean the matrix's adapter charges and refuel them so they can recharge and-- you don't care," he pouted.

She shrugged, patting his arm with a smile. "Fix the matrix adapter charges, then tell me about it. Time's ticking."

He set each bottle on the grating beside him, lining them in a row. "Only needed two, but--" grabbing her face--with greasy hands, she noticed, feeling the gritty substance on her chin and cheek--he kissed her soundly on the lips and pulled back. "Soon as I fix her," he said heatedly, "I am taking you to my room and making love to you for a week. No interruptions." Another quick, hard kiss to her lips, and then his attention was back on the TARDIS' inner workings.

Well, she certainly agreed with that sentiment. A week of sex with the Doctor? That might just make up for all the times they'd been interrupted.

She watched as he pulled a cork free from one of the bottles with his teeth and swept up a rag from... somewhere and dumped some of the liquid onto it before diving back into the console.

Eyeing the bottles, she picked one up and pulled the cork free, raising the bottle to her nose to sniff it. Smelt a bit like cherries and bananas, she guessed. "This safe to drink?" she asked the Doctor, squinting into the bottle, making sure nothing was swimming inside.

"Hmm?" came his distracted voice. He glanced over at her and his eyes fell on the bottle. "Yeah, of course." Then he disappeared again.

Rose sniffed it again and raised the bottle to her lips.


	5. Stiny and Durnk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did (4/6)  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who.  
> **Author's Notes:** Thanks to momdaegmorgan for beta-ing and keeping me working on this and my other stories when I wanted to give up.

The Doctor popped up from the lower workings of the TARDIS, wiping his hands on a rag covered in oil, grease, and E'ren'on among other things he couldn't immediately identify. He glanced down at his hands, seeing they were no cleaner for it, and shrugged. He'd planned on showering before making love to Rose anyway, especially now, after being ensconced in the lower areas of the console for so long.

Or they could shower together.

Interest peaked, he imagined a wet, soapy Rose, lathered and dripping under his hands. And he had that edible soap because, well, he liked to taste things, didn't he? And that first taste of the soap he'd used with his last body had been enough to send him straight to the sixty-second century where edible soap was all the rage.

He'd got a few looks as he made his purchases. A bit like he looked now, he thought, picturing Rose naked and covered in edible soap, just begging to be licked off.

Oh.

Excitement shot through him and he planted his hands on either side of the metal grating, dragging himself free. Sitting on the edge, he ducked down and glanced at Rose. She was sitting on the floor, a bottle of E'ren'on in her hands, titling it this way and that, sloshing the red liquid from end to end.

Grinning, he jumped up and held a hand out, grabbing hers when she reached out to him. He pulled her upwards and headed toward the interior of the--

He was dragged to a halt when she didn't move.

She wasn't standing up. She was still sitting. Her arm had moved with him, but she was still seated, only now her arm was crossed over toward him.

Impatient for her and the soap, he gestured in the general direction of his room. "All done, TARDIS is fixed, we're not gonna die, let's go have sex." Not the smoothest line in the universe, but he was about to burst from the frustration of being turned on to the point of exploding and then being denied the only thing he wanted. Rose. Any way he could have her. And he wanted her in just about every way possible.

His lips twisted up. Well, maybe not like the Dur'nomblins. That was just... unnatural.

Rose set her sloshing bottle down and blinked up at him. "No dying... that's-- that's good. I don't wanna die before shagging you at least a hundred times." She paused and chuckled to herself. "Maybe a thousand."

His excitement waned a little, lips turning down slightly. She was slurring.

Looking at her more closely, he groaned to himself. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, but he was positive it wasn't from arousal.

She attempted to get up, but fell right back on her bum instead. Glancing at the bottle in front of her as if it were at fault, she planted her free hand on the floor and shoved up. He yanked at the same time, and, as another glass bottle hit the grating, she pushed herself up and he ended up with an armful of Rose.

Her hair was in her face, her skin flushed, eyes dilated.

Bugger!

He wasn't getting his soapy Rose tonight. Glancing down at the bottle, he saw another completely empty one on its side where she'd been sitting.

She pressed her hands against his chest and moved back, shoving at her hair to get it out of her face as she stumbled backward. Her hand reached up to rub her nose as she looked up at him. "Finally," she slurred, swaying on her feet. "Sex." Gesturing to the interior of the TARDIS, she nodded and headed in that direction. "Let's have it."

Grinning despite himself, he followed her and took her hand, turning her down the right hall when she headed left.

She kissed his hand and wrinkled up her nose, pulling it back to look at it. "It's stiny." Her foot tripped over air and he caught her around the waist. Grinning up at him, she leaned close and whispered, as if imparting a great secret. "And I think I'm durnk."

He snickered at her. "I'm stiny and you're durnk?"

She nodded seriously and resumed their path to his room. The Doctor sighed, watching her bum sway back and forth. He wasn't going to be having sex for a few days at the very least.


	6. Elvis Stole My GIrlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Work, and 1 That Did (6/6)  
> **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose  
> **Rating:** Humor, romance  
> **Summary:** Rose and the Doctor trample through the clichés.  
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who.  
> **Thanks:** to momdaegmorgan for the fantastic beta and for pushing me to write and helping me when I got stuck. I don't think I would've finished it without her nagging and our word wars. :)  
> **Note:** This chapter is huge, as I'm sure you already noticed, and have already freaked out about. Sorry about that. I can't seem to do short ending chapters, especially if smut is involved. And smut is definitely involved. :)

The Doctor glared at Elvis. His lip curled, not in imitation of the singer, but in a snarl that went largely unnoticed in the crowded Vegas casino. Amid the loud music blaring from tinny speakers on the slot machines, muzak on the overhead system, and the conversations surrounding him, an ear piercing alarm went off to his left, startling him enough that his drink sloshed over onto his hand. He transferred his glass to his other hand and absently licked the pop off as he resumed watching Rose and Elvis flirt.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He'd had a plan, a very precise, yet, simple plan, that wasn't being implemented. All because of Elvis.

He sniffed sharply.

What did Rose see in the singer? Well, sure, he was handsome, the Doctor supposed. Young, back to looking like he used to in his early days on Earth. Talented, sure. But could he precisely time the temporal shift of a star millions of light years away?

No.

This wasn't one of his better plans, he thought with a sigh. He'd meant to show Rose a good time after her three-day hangover from the E'ren'on. A bit of fun, a little recovery, and then sex.

They had a suite in the hotel with a bed that took up nearly the entire bedroom. She had to have guessed his plan: hadn't he told her before fixing the TARDIS that he was going to make love to her for a week once they were able to? Now that she was re-hydrated and eating again, not lying in a miserable lump on his bed, well... it was time, wasn't it?

Time for sex with Rose Tyler.

That deserved capitals: Sex With Rose Tyler.

Just thinking about touching her, kissing her, being inside her... just thinking about her was making his body hum and grow heated in anticipation. A heavy weight settled in his stomach as his eyes caressed her form. Her bright blonde hair, pushed behind her ears, a smile on her lips that he knew let the tip of her tongue show.

He wanted to do things with that tongue. Put it to better use than smiling. Well, maybe not better use, but certainly more pleasurable use. And, oh, boy, did he want to put his own tongue to use on her.

But that was on hold for now, it seemed. Apparently the new plan was to flirt with Elvis bloody Presley.

He groaned mentally. It was his own fault; he'd had the bright idea to come here to see Elvis. The real Elvis, not the one from the twentieth century, but the one who'd returned home and was now a Vegas lounge singer in the forty-fifth century.

She was healed and he wanted her, but he'd decided to wine and dine her first. She deserved it after three days of throbbing headaches, no appetite to speak of, throwing up everything she managed to get down, and dehydration... E'ren'on wasn't really a drink for humans. He wished he'd remembered that before he'd told her it was safe for consumption.

Ah, well. Too late to worry about it now. What was done was done and all that rot.

Perhaps introducing her to Elvis hadn't been a particularly stellar part of the plan. How was he to know they'd hit it off and flirt with each other while he stood watching, virtually forgotten about?

Still, did she have to laugh so much? And not just a regular laugh, but one of those full-throated laughs where she threw her head back and scrunched her eyes up, and... that was his laugh! Elvis was stealing his laugh!

His eyes narrowed, fingers clenching his glass. Why did she keep touching his stupid, spangly-jacketed arm? It wasn't like she _had_ to.

"Excuse me," said a gravelly voice to his right, interrupting his thoughts. "Could you do me a favor and shove off?"

The Doctor squinted through the smoke floating in the air, and glanced down at the owner of the voice. There was a rather oversized black and silver cowboy hat atop a wide-eared Telmo'Tar in front of the slot machine he was leaning on. Beady red eyes glared at the Doctor from amid a pale, narrow head. "Sorry?"

The Telmo'Tar sighed heavily and spoke slowly as if the Doctor were an idiot. "Get. Off. My. Machine? Min'Tiya!"

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Language," he chastised, pushing away from the blaring slot machine.

"I'll give you language," the Telmo'Tar grumbled, reaching forward with his short arms to slap his palm over the button that set the machine to spinning again.

Sighing, the Doctor turned his attention back to Rose and Elvis just in time to see them head down a hallway on the right. He knew that hallway, and he knew where it led.

Dressing rooms. That was enough.

Setting his drink on top of the Telmo'Tar's slot machine and ignoring his angry rumblings, the Doctor started off after them. Not three steps later, a small blue-haired figure bumped into him, splashing something wet onto his suit jacket, pants, and... "Oh, not the Chucks," he mumbled, swiping his hands down the dripping material of his shirt. Sighing, he looked down at a Wominlur, who began to apologize profusely in a high-pitched voice that was gratingly sharp over the rest of the sounds surrounding them.

"I am so very, very sorry, honorable sir." Small blue hands came up to help him wipe what smelled like bourbon from his pants, brushing and rubbing against his private bits. "Very sorry."

"Oi," he protested, stepping back from the too-intimate touch. "I've got it, thanks."

Light blue hair bobbed in a respectful bow, and the Wominlur headed off, continuing to bow for the next ten feet, even walking backward just to keep the Doctor in sight.

Sidestepping a cocktail waitress, the Doctor took two more steps toward Rose and Elvis, then shot down the row to his right. At the end, he darted forward and grabbed the Wominlur's arm, holding his own hand out. "Sonic screwdriver, if you don't mind."

The Wominlur smiled widely at him and bowed some more, nearly scraping his fingers on the ground. "You are very bright, very sharp," he giggled, straightening up again and digging a hand into his pocket. "I am most honored to have been your pickpocket tonight." He held a long, thin, boney finger up in the air, reaching only about chest height on the Doctor. "Most honored. You are worthy. I give you your sonic back."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow at him and took the sonic screwdriver from his opened palm. Sticking it into his jacket pocket, he glanced down the hallway, looking for Rose and Elvis. They were gone. "And the psychic paper if you please."

The grin on the Wominlur's face widened. A hard feat, considering it was already nearly stretching from ear to ear. "Oh, yes. Oh, you are very observant, sir! I am most honored--"

"Yeah, yeah," the Doctor said in annoyance, grabbing the proffered item and stepping past the alien, eyes still on the hallway Rose had disappeared down.

This time, nothing stopped him. He headed toward the hallway and then followed it. The music, blaring sounds of the slot machines, and alarms faded into the background. Soon the only noise was the squeak his trainers made on the marble flooring. Overhead lights sent down a soft yellow glow that encompassed a few yards of the cream and blue walls and cream flooring before fading out and leading into the next pool of light.

He wasn't even aware of it until his palms began to hurt, but his hands were fisted in his trouser pockets, nails digging into flesh. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. See Elvis, have a little fun, maybe play a few games, and then back to their room for a fantastic night of shagging.

 

But that lothario of aliens had ruined his plans. Rose had gone to the King's dressing room and the Doctor was left behind to play with his sonic screwdriver.

There'd be no more of that if he had his druthers... well, not alone anyway. His lips curved up at the thought of watching Rose touch herself. His body liked that idea. His cock twitched and started to harden. Clenching his teeth, and trying to ignore the growing ache to have Rose right where he wanted her, he reached the end of the hallway and stopped before a door marked with a gold glittery crown with the name

** _Elvis_ **

spelled out in fancy black script.

First he'd get Rose back, then they could have happy sex-fun. Raising a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the wood and waited. There was a feminine giggle, followed by a low male laugh and a thunking sound. Frowning, the Doctor straightened up and reached for the door handle.

Maybe she was hurt. Maybe Elvis had kidnapped her! Maybe--

The door was yanked open, causing a breeze to stir his hair. Rose's laughter floated over him. With narrowed eyes, he took in her flushed cheeks, wild hair and the positively healthy glow to her.

He frowned. Something was wrong here.

"Doctor," she chuckled, grabbing his arm, attempting to drag him inside with her.

He resisted.

"Time to go," he told her, voice flat and eyes on Elvis, who was hovering on the other side of the small dressing room. He was fidgeting with something on a small table in front of him, shirt off. Yes, it was most definitely time to go, he thought, flickering his eyes over Rose's bright eyes and pink-tinged cheeks.  
She didn't seem to notice his mood. Her hand slid into to his, twining their fingers together. "But, Elvis was just about to show me his--"

Eyes widening, the Doctor looked down at her. "Oh, I'm sure he was."

Rose blinked at him a few times, furrowing her brow as she finally took in his mood. "Something wrong?"

The Doctor breathed deeply, sliding his eyes over Elvis, wanting to yell that _he_ was what was wrong. But he kept his composure and said instead, "No, nothing's wrong. It's just..." he struggled for an excuse, any excuse, but his mind was too filled with images of Rose and Elvis to think straight. The two of them, locked together, her sitting on the table--knocking something over in her haste... it would certainly explain the thump that he'd heard before the door opened--Elvis' wandering hands all over her. Her! His... Rose. Shaking his head to clear it, he muttered, "It's just time go. Come on."

Elvis' lips twisted up into a smirking version of his infamous lip curl. "But, Doctor," he said in that oddly rushed voice of his, thick southern accent still firmly in place, just as phony as the name he was known by, "you haven't stopped in for a drink and a chat yet. We were just waiting for you, weren't we, Rose?"

Her mouth curved up in a wide smile at Elvis' words, her fingers releasing and tightening on the Doctor's hand. "He was just telling me about the time you two--"

"Right." The Doctor sniffed, knowing all the stories Elvis could be telling Rose, and none of them were flattering. And he was still angry. Elvis seemed to be stealing his girlfriend. Well, was that really the word to use? Perhaps not. Maybe lover. Except she wasn't that yet. Soon, he hoped. Tonight. Eyes darkening at the thought, out of anger and frustration more than desire, he dragged on Rose's hand and pulled her with him, nodding curtly to Elvis. "Sorry, no time. Gotta go."

"Ah, that's all right," Elvis told him, looking Rose over a little too intimately for the Doctor's comfort. "I'll be seeing the two of you again. Goodbye, my sweet Rose petal."

The Doctor snorted and looked away.

Elvis made to take Rose's free hand, but the Doctor quickly drew her out the door with him. Elvis' eyes fairly danced with an amusement the Doctor didn't understand. "Doctor."

He waved a farewell in Elvis' general direction and dragged Rose with him.

She dug in her heels and looked from one man to the next, eyes narrowing at the steely gaze the Doctor sent Elvis. "It was nice meetin' you. Mum's gonna have kittens when I give her this," she said, holding up a small gold disk in the palm of her hand.

The Doctor sniffed, unimpressed. If she'd wanted a Holodisk, all she'd had to do was ask. He had a drawer full of them on the TARDIS. He tugged on her hand impatiently, eager to be gone from this place.

Instead of protesting further, she shut the door and let him drag her a few yards down the hall. Then she, so kindly, said, "You were bein' rude again."

He shrugged, uncaring about whether Elvis bloody Presley thought him rude. _He_ wasn't the one stealing someone else's... soon-to-be lover!

She was silent for a few more yards before yanking her hand free. "What's got into you?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she stayed still and waited, watching him closely as the sounds of the casino played in the background. "I mean, you told me he was your friend. You introduced me to him. And you-- you have the banana-thing in common, yet, suddenly, you can't be bothered to make nice with him, leaving me to do so."

A hint of orange drifted by, and he knew Elvis had left the building, had transported back to his home planet. Good riddance.

The thought of Rose making nice with Elvis made his blood boil again. "Didn't look like a chore to me," he scoffed, tone coming out harsher than he'd intended. What was wrong with him? Couldn't he just shut up and stop digging himself in deeper? Forcing his body to relax, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, I'm just not in the mood for your pretty-boy flirting."

Oh, no. Why'd he go and say that? She was sure to get angry now, and he could see his chances for salvaging the night slipping through his fingers.

Her eyes darkened and narrowed on him. "Excuse me?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't... there was no-- he was giving me an autographed holodisk-thingie for mum and showing me his stupid gold records!"

"I'll bet," the Doctor mumbled, rolling his eyes a little at her naïveté, and feeling quite justified in pointing out, "he was half-naked."

She dropped her arms, hands fisting by her sides. "He-- he's a singer," she spluttered, stepping away from him.

No, damn it. She was supposed to be moving closer to him, not farther away.

"He was changing for his next set," she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "You know, here, in the very casino that you brought me to because, 'gosh, Rose, it'll be so much fun'. And then all you did was brood and hang back and look like you wanted to be anywhere else but here. Anywhere but with me," she added more quietly, swallowing and looking over his shoulder. "I mean, you're the one that brought us here-- I didn't even want to... why are we here?" Her eyes settled on his once again, and he saw a hint of uncertainty in them. "I thought we were..."

"We are," he insisted hurriedly, closing the distance between them and grabbing her upper arms. Loosening his grip, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders. "I am. You are. We... definitely are." Her muscles relaxed a little, but he could see she still wasn't completely convinced. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed and slid his hand down her arm to thread their fingers together. "Let's go upstairs."

There was a bank of lifts a little way down, and when she offered no resistance, he assumed she'd got over her anger, but as they neared the mirrored doors and he pressed the up button, Rose drew her hand from his and stepped back.

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow at him in the mirrored doors. She didn't _look_ angry.

"What?" he asked, blinking at the bright lights that reflected off the lift doors rather than look at her straight on. She wanted to know why they were going upstairs to a hotel room that had a huge bed in it? Seriously? "Well... because."

Her snort, completely uncalled for and rather rude, irritated him further. But, paradoxically, her lips twisting up in amusement had him wanting to respond. "Because?" she mimicked, leaning one shoulder against the wall. "Well, that explains it all, Doctor."

He didn't like the amused, all-knowing look on her face. Didn't like that he really _did_ like it and felt his body starting to respond to her again. He wanted to share in her amusement, and her being this close was a bit of a distraction for his righteous jealousy-- er, anger. "Elvis was... and-- and you were--" his voice was getting higher and he had to stop before he shattered the mirrored doors with it.

Sometimes he hated this incarnation.

"I was what?" she asked, smile still lingering around her mouth, ready to take flight at any moment.

"Flirting with him."

There. He'd said it. Told her the truth. Explained it clearly enough.

"That's what this is about?" she asked with a snort of laughter, gesturing to him, then the hallway behind that led back to the dressing rooms. "You're jealous? You?" She leaned closer and squinted at him as if reading something on his face.

"No," he denied, rearing back a little and shoving his hands in his pockets. A second later, he jerked one hand free and stabbed his finger at the up button again. She was being ridiculous. Of course he wasn't jealous of bloody Elvis friggin' Presley.

"Oh, my god," she laughed, pulling back and clamping a hand over her mouth. "You are," she said, words muffled. "You're jealous of Elvis. You went storming back there like a... like a--" her eyes fairly danced, reminding him of how Elvis had looked at him just a minute before, and then she burst into peals of laughter. "Like a caveman," she barely managed to get out.

A couple came up behind them, standing a few feet back out of respect for their personal space, but well within the range of their conversation. He glared at them in the mirrored doors.

Rose was still giggling.

And his chances of making love to her were decreasing exponentially.

"I'm surprised you didn't beat me over the head with a club... or, or the sonic screwdriver. And drag me away by my hair instead of my hand!" Her eyes widened and her grin split her face. "Oh, my god, you're Bobo!"

The last of his control snapped. "I am not--" he began, then stopped himself because he was practically shouting. In a more quiet, controlled tone, he continued, "I am not Bobo. Nor am I jealous. In any way."

She smirked and slipped her hands into her back pockets. "Okay," she chuckled.

The lift dinged, and when the doors slid open, the Doctor grabbed Rose's arm, nearly pulling her off balance as he dragged her into the small space, then turned to sonic screwdriver the panel of buttons. The couple with them tried to enter as well, but he released Rose's arm and waved them off. "Do you mind?"

The man raised a red tentacle and gestured them ahead with a sigh. "Don't mind us," he griped, rolling his ten eyes in unison.

The woman beside him folded her tentacles over her chest and glared. "Oh, no, we're fine, you go on ahead, Mr. Jealousy."

The sonic screwdriver whirred and the panel began to smoke. Just as the lift doors were closing, the Doctor stuck his head toward the opening and snapped, "I'm not jealous!"

Then the doors closed and their annoyed faces were gone, leaving him alone with an amused Rose.

Muzak, being piped in through a tinny speaker, accompanied them for the first four floors before the Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at the speaker, making it pop and hiss, before it crackled to death.

"Sure you're not."

The Doctor tossed a single annoyed glance over his shoulder, then ignored her, keeping his eyes firmly on the doors--no mirrors--watching the numbers count down. Well, up. "I'm not," he groused.

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Thirty-fi--

Something tickled his neck, and he reached up to brush it away before realizing it was Rose. She was standing just behind him, her warm breath wafting over his skin, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck and stirring goosebumps on his skin. He was so attuned to her that he shuddered in response to her nearness.

Her hand threaded through his as she slipped alongside him, facing straight ahead. "Are too." Her eyes slid to his without moving her head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips trying not to rise into a smirk.

"Am not." Also facing straight ahead, he straightened his back and shoulders and snuck a quick look at her.

Silence fell.

His mood was beginning to lighten just a bit. It wasn't the end of the universe. Rose was with him after all, not Elvis. She hadn't gone off with the King, and apparently, she'd had no intention of doing so either. That was good.

The lift began to slow down, then halted at floor sixty-nine.

As the door opened, Rose turned to him and asked, "Is it true that you and Elvis went to Elba-- um, Elberooun Seven?" She headed into the hall in front of them, stopping only when he didn't move and she had to halt her progress or have her arm yanked from its socket.

Swallowing past his suddenly dry mouth, panic racing through him, he stared at the side of her head, wondering where this question was headed. Hoped it wasn't headed where he thought it was. Oh, if Elvis had told her about the sisters, he was going to personally go to his home planet and-- and... take his transmat away. Closing his eyes at the pathetic threat, he pinched his nose and trailed after Rose. "Yes."

"And the Yurkama sisters...?" she continued, her voice full of curiosity and possibly more laughter.

The Doctor closed his eyes as they reached their room. "Yes."

Rose pulled her keycard from her back pocket and slipped it through the slot while he impatiently fingered the sonic screwdriver in his pocket. He wanted to aim it at the little electronic lock and blow it up, but the bulb turned green and the door swung open for them, denying him the satisfaction of seeing smoke, and parts flying through the air. There wasn't even a click. "So, why didn't you--"

"Didn't want to." He strode past her and listened in satisfaction as the door shut behind him, rattling loudly in its frame.

"Why not?" She followed him, paying no attention to the blue and cream theme that permeated the entire hotel. She didn't glance toward the bedroom on the right, didn't turn on the telly in front of them. Didn't go to look out the bank of windows at the cityscape beyond. No, she just stood before the couch, watching him. Eyes solidly fixed on his as he fidgeted with the sonic screwdriver, avoiding her gaze.

He used his thumbnail to click it on and off. Changed the settings from unlocking doors to resonating glass. If he shattered the windows, there'd be a whipping breeze that would threaten to suck them both out. His thumb flipped it back to glass. Then locks again.

Seeing she wasn't going to just let the subject go, he sighed heavily. "I'm not a human, Rose."

"Neither is Elvis." She shifted from her left foot to her right, sliding the keycard back into her jean pocket.

His eyes slid to the bedroom, seeing his chances slipping further away. "I'm not a Luxanion either."

She shrugged, the motion causing her hair to fall behind her shoulder. "Neither are the Yurkama sisters, yet they very obviously wanted--"

"Let me put it another way." He shoved his hands into his pockets, then took them out again and shrugged free of his coat, tossing it over the back of the couch. Scratching absently at the side of his jaw, he wondered why he hadn't told her this ages ago when he'd made his decision. Before the aphrodisiac incident that'd affected Rose. Before the cavemen planet even.

Sighing, he settled on the arm of the couch, shifting his coat sleeve out from under him. "I'm a Time Lord, and Time Lords don't need sex. We have no biological imperative. We don't... didn't have children through biological means, not for the past few thousand years."

"Where's the fun in that?" she joked, sucking her lips between her teeth.

Fighting his own smile, he cleared his throat. "We have... had-- well, I guess it's just me now. I have needs only when I want them. Only when I allow myself to feel them. I..." he trailed off, wishing he'd told her all of this long before. Eyes capturing hers, he held his hand out and folded his fingers around hers when she took it. He drew her closer, then settled their clasped hands on his thigh for a second before pushing to his feet. Sliding the fingers of his free hand into her hair, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I want you, Rose. I've wanted you for a long time. But, this isn't just, 'Hi, hello, I find you very attractive, let's shag!'. Time Lords don't work that way. With us, it's more, 'Hi, hello, I'm going to allow myself to be attracted to you, let's shag!'.

"So, you do...?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly and trailed her hand down his chest, to his trousers. Settling it between his legs and squeezing lightly, she caressed his semi-hard cock.

He'd been drifting toward hard all night, and now, with them alone, a bed nearby, and her fingers caressing him, he let himself respond to her fully. Not that he seemed to have much choice anymore. Since lowering his barriers and allowing himself to become aroused by her, he couldn't control it. Not really. "Oh, yes," he told her, cupping her cheek briefly before pressing his lips to hers once, then twice, and again. "And I plan on doing it quite often." He kissed her more fully, releasing her hand to grasp her head, holding her still. "With you." Licking the corner of her mouth, he pressed his mouth to hers. "Only you."

He felt her frown under his lips. "What, like we're dating?" she chuckled, pulling free long enough to speak and take a breath before resuming kissing him. Her unoccupied hand lowered to press against his balls, then took them in hand and gently cupped them. Her other hand tightened on him and he groaned, bucking his hips forward. The material of his trousers was soft and rough, creating friction where he needed it. Doing her job for her.

That couldn't be allowed.

He tore his mouth from hers and spun them around. Her hands released him, grabbing his hips to steady herself. Missing the contact, he hurriedly walked her backward toward the bedroom, fingers fumbling with the hem of her blouse. Yanking it over her head, he tossed it aside and immediately grabbed for the waistband of her jeans. Her stomach muscles tightened at the contact.

"Exactly like we're dating," he mumbled, drawing her closer and slipping his fingers under the button. Ripping it open, he undid the zip, then stopped as his hand flattened against her stomach. Catching her eye, he breathed heavily a few times before getting the words out. "No more pretty boys. No Mickeys. No Jacks. No Adams and Elvis'. We shag," he told her, sliding his hands up her sides to her breasts, then stopped himself from touching more of her before getting the words out, "and there's no one else for you. Or me. Just you."

"Just you," she agreed, kissing him and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, dragging it from the waistband of his trousers. "You know, you're a bit demanding when you're turned on." The ends of his shirts left his trousers, hanging loose at his sides. She worked at the small buttons, fingers fumbling with each one.

He tilted his head to the side, considering her words. "I think I am." His voice came out in a growl and he felt her shiver against him. _Oh!_ Grinning, he shoved her against the wall and pressed his body against hers, holding her there with a knee between her legs and his erection pushing into her stomach. "I _know_ I am. The things I want to do to you, Rose Tyler." He darted his head down, licking the side of her neck, tasting her soap and sweat and arousal with a bit of smoke and Elvis' cologne mixed in.

Something in the Doctor wanted to douse her in his scent. Wanted her to smell like him and sex and her. He wanted to tear her clothes off and shag her hard.

When her mouth settled near his ear, and her words drifted to him in an excited whisper, his whole body trembled. "And I want you to do them."

Hands on her bare stomach, he roughly dragged his palms up and cupped her breasts over her bra. He wasn't able to do much with it in his way, so he shoved the simple white material up and over her fleshy mounds. Rose sighed when skin touched skin, eagerly reaching behind her back to unfasten the clasp and take it off, while he busied his mouth and hands with her breasts. He flicked a pebbled nipple with his thumb, sucking the other one into his mouth before biting down and then soothing it with his tongue.

Her hips arched into him, seeking friction in the one place he'd been neglecting. "I really want you to do them, Doctor."

"Mmm," he growled, pushing back so she was against the wall again. "Wicked girl." A thrill of excitement raced through him when she licked her lips and then bit the lower one, eyes on him the entire time. "Tease."

Nails scraped his stomach as his button-shirt was pushed aside and shoved partially off his shoulders along with his jacket. She was divesting him of his clothes, but he didn't want that, not yet. He wanted to see her first. Wanted her bared to his gaze.

He stepped back far enough to stop her, grabbed her wrists with tight fingers, and stared into her eyes. She was as aroused as he was. The brown of her pupils were nearly black, her gaze heavy-lidded. And she looked like he felt; like she wanted to jump him and shag him until they burned to cinders.

A whimper escaped her and she tried to pull free, but he shook his head and yanked her to him. Mouths centimeters apart, he dipped down and tasted her. "Mangos and kiwi." Sucking on her lower lip, he bit it, then let go. "I want you to taste of me." Not just taste, he thought. He wanted her to smell of him. To feel all of him buried so deep inside her that they felt like one being, one creature.

Letting her wrists go, he swooped back in and kissed her, hard and hungry. Desire pooled in him, sweeping him up in a cyclone of emotions and tossing him around like bits of paper on the wind, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

Her jeans, wide open, called to his hands and they obeyed. Flattening his palm on her stomach again, he slid it down, into her knickers, feeling the heat of her skin permeate his own. The soft curly hairs tickled his fingers as he threaded through them, going even lower. Sliding a single finger down into her wet folds, he felt her head drop against his shoulder as he lightly touched her clit.

Hips jerking forward, she moaned and clutched his arms, breath whispering across his neck. "Doctor." There was a need in her voice that he relished.

The second she began pushing at his jacket and shirts again, he ripped his mouth and hands away from her. "Ah-ah," he tutted, backing away and examining her. She was plastered against the wall, one leg bent, the other supporting her, both hands curled by her sides.

He'd never seen her looking more beautiful than now; her hair was wild and unkempt, eyes half-closed and filled with desire for him. Shirt off, bra gone, bared to his gaze just as he wanted her. Her breasts jiggled lightly with every deep breath she took, the nipples pebbled and hard. He re-examined his earlier thought that her mouth was made for more than just talking, laughing, and kissing.

Oh, it definitely was.

His cock was hard now, fully erect, and his trousers were beginning to feel more than a little constricting. Unfastening them, he lowered the zip, and freed himself.

Rose's eyes dropped to his hands as he slowly stroked his shaft.

He watched her reactions as he encircled himself, sliding up toward the tip, teasing himself with his thumb, before moving back down toward the base, fingers cupping his balls.

She was swallowing thickly, eyes glued to his cock, licking and biting at her lips. One of her hands drifted to her thigh, scraping her nails against the rough material of her jeans before moving higher to slip inside her knickers, closer to her wet heat.

Shaking his head, he halted the movement with a chastising look. "No."

He wanted her to touch herself, just not this time. Not tonight. He was too close to the edge already and he knew that if he watched her finger herself, watched her slide her-- groaning, he squeezed his cock and strode purposefully over to her.

She pushed away from the wall at the same time, meeting him halfway. Grabbing her by the arms, he drew her to him for a fast, hard kiss. He devoured her mouth with lips and tongue, wanting to taste every last inch of her, to slide his tongue along every bit of her.

But that was for later.

Right now, he'd have to settle for just the basics, unless he wanted to come like a teenager touching himself for the first time. Kneeling before her, he pulled both her jeans and knickers down at the same time. Unable to stop himself, he reached up a hand to caress the curve of her arse, slipping a finger from his other hand between her legs to wet it. "Take them off," he ordered, standing back and watching her as he licked his finger.

She bent over and hastily kicked off her trainers and socks, then yanked the blue material free, taking her knickers with them.

Naked now, she moved forward, eyes dropping to his mouth, watching heatedly as he popped his finger free and licked his lips. She tasted divine. "On the bed."

There was a small amount of doubt in her eyes, he could see, a little uncertainty with his sudden demands. He was acting very unlike himself. But this is what he wanted. This was how he wanted. And who.

This body was aggressive when it was aroused. And he liked that. Seeing her swallow thickly and dart a look at his cock, he knew she liked it too.

She perched herself on the end of the bed, sitting stiffly, nervously, awaiting his next move.

"No," he decided, not liking that at all. He had an idea of what he wanted, but this wasn't it. "On the bed," he repeated, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head.

White teeth came out to nibble her bottom lip again and he had to fight the urge to give her something far better to do with them. His fingers clenched around the circle of his tie and he considered tying her up with it, binding her hands above her head and securing it at the headboard, spreading her body to his hands and gaze.

Leaving her vulnerable before him. Did she trust him enough? He wasn't sure, but that was for another time.

Heated eyes on his, she pushed herself further up the bed until her legs were straight before her. Resting her weight on her elbows, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Better?"

His eyes ran over her naked body at the same time as hers ran over his fully clothed one. Well, mostly clothed. His tie was in hand, hanging from the loop, ends trailing on the floor. His cock was out and erect. Brown dress shirt unbuttoned and open. He was thoroughly rumpled, hair as well as clothes.

Rose pressed her legs together and shifted under his gaze. "Kind of unfair."

Dropping his tie to the floor, he moved to the bed and crawled over her, pressing a single kiss to a calf, another to her knee, one more to her thigh and then her hip. Her eyes followed his progress, body shuddering with each touch of his lips to her warm flesh. They should've done this months ago. Years ago. Hovering over her stomach, he bent down to lick and nip at her skin. She lifted her hand to cradle the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair as she arched up and closer to his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

Her other hand was on her breast, playing with the nipple, pinching it and scraping her nails along the tender flesh.

Brushing her hand aside, he leaned down and flicked the nipple with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth. A whimper escaped her parted lips and he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted. Biting her nipple lightly, teasingly, he crawled up the rest of her body and kissed her hard. "Turn over."

Her eyes flew to his, voice breathless when she asked, "What?"

Distracted by his hand running down her hip and around the curve of her bum, he repeated his words.

"I-- I don't want..." she began, sounding nervous again.

Glancing at her, he frowned, trying to understand what could have made her-- oh. Chuckling, he smoothed his hand lower, along the back of her thigh. "Neither do I." Sliding both hands between her legs, he encouraged her to open them, helping to spread them just wide enough to slip a finger inside her wet folds. A groan slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes at the feel of her. She was so hot and wet that he wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. "This," he told her huskily, "is the only place I want to be right now."

Her smile turned into a moan as he slipped in another finger. "Kinda wantin' you there too," she said tightly, hips rising up to meet his fingers.

He stilled his hand in her.

She growled and grabbed the back of his head with her hands, pulling him down until their lips were centimeters away. "Now, Doctor." Her mouth assaulted his, urgent and violent, all tongues and lips and teeth. One hand dropped from his head and scraped down his neck, causing him to shudder in excitement. "Can't wait anymore."

Apparently she had a little aggression in her as well, and he'd like to explore that side of things sometime, just not now.

Pulling away from her, he knelt between her legs and grabbed her left calf. Sliding impatient hands down the smooth skin, he ignored her frustrated growl and bent her leg at the knee. She grinned impudently and sat up, grabbing his cock and stroking it quickly once, then again before he halted her hand.

It felt good, better than good. It was fantastic, but he wanted her tight flesh surrounding him, not her fingers. Pressing his fingers to her chest, he gently nudged her back, raising an eyebrow when she resisted. "Rose..."

She gave an eyeroll and flopped back on the bed, bouncing a bit, causing her breasts to jiggle tantalizingly. "Never thought you'd get off on ordering people around."

"Not people." Tearing his eyes from her breasts, he placed her left leg with her right. "Just you, right now. Oh, Rose, I'm discovering that I like to be in control during sex." Running a finger along the arch of her foot, he stared back at her. "No, that's not right. It's not control... it's aggression. I want-- I--" not sure what he was trying to say, he sighed. "This body, it wants. And what it wants most of all, what it craves, is you."

He could see her eyes growing darker as desire swirled around in her. "Better not become a habit," she blustered, though the words sounded more breathless than threatening.

He grinned and leaned down across her again. "Over."

She didn't resist this time. Turning to her stomach, she climbed onto all fours and looked back over her shoulder, waiting. "I feel like an idiot like this," she mumbled.

"You don't look like one." He liked her arse. It was nicely shaped--he traced a hand down the curve to her thigh--and nicely sized too. He leaned down to kiss the flesh where it met her back. But that's not where he wanted to be. Tracing her bum, he slipped a hand between her legs again and dipped his fingers into her wet heat. Her muscles clenched and quivered as he stroked two fingers inside her, creating a slow, sensuous friction. Pushing back against his hand, she whimpered and began to rock into him.

Pulling his fingers free, he spread her fluids over his shaft, stroking himself a few times in preparation, though he didn't need it; his cock was practically dancing on its own, it was so excited. Snickering to himself at the thought, he grabbed Rose's bum and moved closer, lining up his cock with her entrance.

She sucked in a breath and pushed back again, eager to encase him. "Please, Doctor."

Feeling a powerful, primitive instinct go through him, he pushed into her quickly and with no thought other than needing to be inside her. Her heat and slick flesh sheathed him, immediately clamping down to keep him there, to provide friction, and they both groaned.

"Rose," he muttered, gritting his teeth every time she squeezed around him. "You feel so... ah, ah..." she was pushing back, encouraging him to move. Giving up on trying to talk, he grabbed her hips and began to thrust, creating a pace that started to satisfy the needs of his body. Fingernails digging into her flesh, he drove into her, rocking against her bum, burying himself as deep inside as he could with long, quick strokes.

She was panting and looking forward now, hands clawing the covers beneath them. "God," she hissed, drawing out the word with a grunt, straining back against him. "Doctor, that-- oh, yeah."

Slamming into her, flesh meeting flesh, he listened to her half words and grunts and whimpers with a satisfied smile that slipped with every thrust. Pleasure was pounding through him and his cock felt every squeeze, every shift of her body, every sound she made, and it only made him want more. Releasing his right hand with difficulty, knowing he'd leave bruises and nail marks behind, he flattened his hand on her upper back, pressing down, urging her lower.

He could see that her arms were shaking, straining under the weight of holding herself up while he pistoned into her. She gratefully collapsed her upper body, slowing his rhythm while she adjusted herself. Her hand grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and pulled it under her arms to support them. He waited, buried inside her, slipping further with every inch she lowered.

A guttural noise was ripped from his throat as he was seated deeper in her clinging, wet heat. He opened his mouth to ask if she was ready again, but all that came out were panting breaths. Licking his lips, he leaned over her and tried again. "Ready?" His voice was hoarse and raw, sounding exactly like he felt. "God, Rose, please say you're ready again." Lips pressing to her shoulder blade, he reached one arm around her to rub her clit and rested his other hand on her stomach.

"Yes," she breathed, voice muffled a little by her arms and the pillow. Her hips shifted, making him groan as pleasure licked through his cock. She pressed back into him, urging him on. "Doctor." Her voice was impatient and he chuckled at hearing it.

Holding her tight with one hand on her waist, he clumsily continued to rub her clit, wanting to bring her as close as possible before giving in to the urge to thrust again. His fingers and her flesh were sticky and he kept slipping from his goal. Rose knocked his hand aside and rubbed herself.

"Got it," she panted, shoving her hips back forcefully to get him to move, then jerking forward when her fingers began their magic, not just on her clit, but on his length as well.

He held her hips tight to him, feeling the warm, rounded flesh of her bum against his abdomen. Her attempts at movement created a rocking motion that did little for either of them, so he held her still and moved out, then slid slowly back in, feeling her muscles contracting tighter in preparation of orgasm. Her hips strained forward, into her hand, and then backward, into him. The deep, rich feeling of being inside of her was almost a sensation-overload on its own, but when she began to whimper with each thrust, he felt that primal urge rear up inside of him once more.

He wanted to make her come. He wanted her to scream as she came. He needed her to do so. Felt it like a burning cinder inside his chest, driving his motions, forcing him to thrust into her harder. His movements were becoming wild, hips bucking erratically, making him slip free of her.

Cool air hit his cock and he grunted in frustration as he held himself in position and entered her again, driving home with short thrusts. He was making animalistic grunts deep in his throat, unable to stop as he moved harder and faster, sheathing himself over and over again in her center.

"Rose," he urged, not sure if she was going to come before he did. He felt she was close, but he was rapidly losing control. Baring his teeth, he rocked into her, nearly knocking her off balance. His hands were sweating, losing their grip on her waist.

She panted out a sound that might've been a word, but he couldn't tell over his own strained breathing.

"Rose." Her name came out a chant as he drove into her with rhythmic thrusts. It was all he could hear in the near silence of the room. And then her fingers slid from her clit to his balls, cupping them clumsily, squeezing and loosening and dragging her fingers over the flesh. He couldn't hold it in any longer. His hips jerked into hers, straining to bury himself inside of her, as deeply as possible, as far as he could.

He came with a fierce grunt, hips bucking against her backside.

Her fingers squeezed his balls one last time, sending heat and fire rocketing through him. Spasms shot through his cock in wave after wave of ecstasy as he reared up and drove even deeper.

Rose's muscles clenched on him brutally, milking him of every last drop as she rocked back against him. She let out a string of sounds, gasps and grunts and hisses of pleasure, then she collapsed to the bed, his softened cock slipping free, making both of them groan.

Dropping to the bed beside her, breathing heavily, he rolled over and dragged her to him. His slightly sticky body stuck to her skin, sending a warm, comforting feeling through him.

Chest rising and falling a bit more than after a full-out run, headlong into rampaging alien hordes, he looked down at Rose, seeing she was in just as bad a shape. She curled her body against his and tilted her head up with a grin, resting her head on him. Her warm breath created a soft breeze on his neck, drying his sticky, wet skin.

"You gonna be like that every time?" she asked, tracing a finger around his left nipple.

Scrunching the pillow beneath his head so that he could watch her hand better, he shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not." Raising an eyebrow her way, he asked, "You gonna like it every time?"

Her eyes drifted from her finger to his face. "I don't know." Her grin widened just before she leaned down to kiss his chest between his hearts. "Probably not."

Yeah, he couldn't say as he'd be pleased if she continually took charge during their lovemaking. Every once in a while, sure, but not every time. There was something to be said about variety. Staring up at the plain white ceiling above them, he considered his aggressive behavior earlier. "I think maybe it was more a product of the situation, the entire night, rather than just my reaction to sex. And you. Well," he drawled, tightening his arm around her, "my reaction to you was quite strong, but it was mostly the night, I think. The frustration of the evening. I say mostly, but I mean half. Maybe? Probably a good deal of it was--"

"Your jealousy," she said with a snort of laughter, body shaking against his.

"I was not--" he began, lifting his head to glare down at her. "There was no... I was not jealous. That, back there, with the-- I was annoyed. Not jealous."

"Oh, right," she snickered. "That's why you spent the entire time glaring at me and Elvis. Even when aliens were bootin' you off their machines, and little blue-haired old ladies were spillin' drinks on you," she pointed at his chest, poking him with each successive word, "you. Were. Jealous."

Grabbing her finger to stop its poking, he threaded his fingers with hers and dropped his head back to the pillow. "That wasn't a little blue-haired old lady. That was a Wominlur, a species of professional thieves. And you saw all that?" Sniffing sharply, he tried to keep the pout out of his voice, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Thought you were too wrapped up in Elvis bloody Presley."

She had the gall to laugh again, turning her face into his chest. "Since when do you say 'bloody'?"

"Since you were hanging all over him, touching him at every opportunity, and that is not jealousy, so don't even say it."

Propping her chin on her hand, she stared at him until he flicked his gaze her way, and then returned his eyes fully to her. Her smile was gone, all traces of mirth vanished. "Didn't want Elvis. Didn't spend all night thinking I'd rather be with Elvis than you. Right here, with you. Well," she considered, looking over her shoulder at the TARDIS, off to the side of the door, "maybe in the TARDIS." Lips curving up again, she returned her dancing gaze to his. "Or in a sewer pipe. Perhaps in an alien church... or at a caveman orgy."

He grinned happily and kissed her forehead.

"Mmm," she mumbled, smacking her lips to his chest again. "You're all warm. And sticky." She pushed away from him and ran her eyes over his body in concern, as if he were going to drop dead at any moment. "Are you all right? Not ill are you? Some weird alien disease or something?"

Feeling completely offended, he drew her back down to his chest and glared at her. "I was--- there was a lot of exertion. And sometimes, yes, sometimes, even Time Lords sweat and their body temperatures rise."

She grinned cheekily. "And they pant like they've just run a marathon?"

"Yes, they..." clearing his throat in annoyance, he tapped his finger against her nose. "Best watch it, or I'll cut your sex-time down to four times a week. Missy."

She leaned up and held a hand to his forehead. "You gonna be able to do it that often, old man?"

"Oi!" Hugging her to him, he rolled her over onto her back and hovered over her, resting his weight on his bent arms. "I'll have you know that I am quite virile. And... and not an old man. Nine-hundred isn't old." Now he was definitely whining.

"I don't know," she said with a frown, biting her lip as she trailed her hands down his biceps. "Maybe we should stop and pick up some of that P'Teryn wine. You may need the help."

Now it was his turn to snicker at her. "Wouldn't help any. Doesn't affect me."

"Liar. I was there, remember?" Her right leg bent at the knee and her foot lifted to run along his calf, then his thigh, and then just a little higher. She pressed him down on her, holding him in place with a well-toned leg, made so from so much running. He was very grateful for the running. "I felt you." Her head rose up and her teeth nipped at his ear before she whispered, "You were hard."

He managed to keep from shuddering at her tone and the feel of her wrapped around him. "I was." If she didn't stop teasing him, he'd be hard again. Right here. Right now.

She dropped her head back to the pillow, looking confused. "But, you just said--"

Now it was his turn to play with her neck, making her shiver. Running his tongue lightly along her skin, tasting the mingled flavors of her sweat and arousal, he rested his pelvis against hers. "The wine didn't make me that way. That was all you."

She scoffed and drew away, looking into his eyes. "Was not."

Well, his seduction was having slightly less of an affect than hers had. That was disappointing. "Do you have any idea what it was like knowing what you were feeling, what you were going through? Knowing what your body was doing?" He raised his eyebrows at her, remembering that night. "And the noises you were making. I wanted to shag you right then, just to hear you make those sounds some more. And every night afterward." He grinned. "You have quite the starring role in my fantasies, Rose."

"Really?" she asked, looking like she was ready to smack him if he denied it. "You're not just saying that because you don't want me to think your 'superior physiology' isn't so superior after all?"

"Really." He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slowly, softly. No rush, no urgency. Just a simple kiss that, he hoped, told her how he felt. How much he... cared about her.

Her leg--still curled around him--tightened on his thigh and her arms pushed him back as she twisted her body so that they came to rest side-by-side, facing one another. "Got you right where I want you," she whispered, stifling a yawn that threatened to crack her jaw.

He chuckled, feeling a fondness go through him at the sight. Oh, he was definitely lost. "Go to sleep," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

"'m fine," she protested, snuggling into him, making herself more comfortable.

Running his fingers through her hair, he waited, listening to her quiet breathing as she drifted off. Three minutes and forty-three seconds later, she was asleep. He smiled and smoothed the fallen hair from her face. She was beautiful even in sleep, he thought. And perfect. And his. That-- that still surprised him.

Her hand curled against his stomach and she sighed as she shifted, mumbling something against his chest. Leaning down, he held his breath, waiting to hear her again. "Mmm, not the... keep it." Grinning at the inanity of her words, he began to lie back when she smacked her lips and said, "Love you... Doctor."

He jerked back, staring down at the sleeping woman beside him. Did she... had she just-- kissed him in her sleep? He snorted with laughter, but then stopped abruptly when her unreserved words sank in. She loved him? Real and proper loved him? The way a man loves a woman, or a man loves a man? Or a woman a woman... neither here nor there, he chastised himself, feeling his chest tighten as his feelings for Rose swirled around inside him.

Rose Tyler loved him. Loved him, the Doctor. Aggression and all, jealousy and all... well, no, he hadn't been jealous. Scoffing to himself, he rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around Rose, pressing her into his chest. All right, he had been jealous. So extremely jealous of Elvis blood Presley that he'd turned all that jealousy into primal lovemaking. Well. Not that she hadn't liked it. But still. He needed to watch that.

Hugging her as tightly as he could before bending down to kiss her cheek, he whispered, "I love you too, Rose Tyler.


End file.
